Replay · lead
The village I remembered as this game's heart takes eleven minutes to cross and holds four enterable buildings. The bookkeeping system I dismissed on the first playthrough is where every decision actually happens.
Lead Nine years apart Forty hours then, thirty-one now
Replay
Six years on the visuals hold up and the writing does not, because the twist depended on a convention that has since become the default. On what happens to a surprise when it turns into an assumption.
Replay Six years apart Twelve hours both times
Replay
Eight years, a genre transformation and several hardware generations later, this racing game plays identically. On games that were finished rather than current, and what that decision costs the people who make them.
Replay Eight years apart Twenty hours then, nine now
Note
Three plinths, one solution, and no idea at the time why it worked. Seven years and a great many other games later the logic is plain, which raises a question about what solving something actually consists of.
Note Seven years apart
Note
A rooftop level I remembered as punishing took nineteen minutes on the return visit, with no guide and no difficulty change. The game is identical; what improved was a willingness to wait, which is not a skill I would have called one at the time.
Note Five years apart
Note
Two systems I had always treated as independent are in fact one system with two interfaces. Eleven years of confident incompetence, corrected in a single afternoon by reading a tooltip I had skipped every previous time.
Note Eleven years apart
Six pieces published
New replays appear when a second playthrough is finished